


Block in the Road

by SophinaBlackwood



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Affection, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophinaBlackwood/pseuds/SophinaBlackwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Raw, March 14, 2016.</p><p>Ziggler is mulling over a potentially game changing loss when he hears that Neville has been injured. Hurt/comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Block in the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Was feelin' pretty bummed out after Raw and this is what came out. Things aren't looking good for the babes right now.

_He’s a lovable loser like you guys, that’s why you can relate to him._

Dolph stared forward, chilly Philadelphia air whipping at his cheeks. He usually hated the cold but on this particular night it didn’t seem to affect him. He just felt numb. The off-putting stench of Hunter’s sweat occasionally stung his nostrils even an hour after their match. A reminder that he could never be as good as he always claimed. Dolph had let them down. The audience. The boys and girls in the back. Himself.

Fake it ‘till you make it.

Those were the words he lived by. At first, it was true. He was a fake. He really was the kind of loser that Steph and Hunter had described. Chasing a pro-wresting pipedream but, damnit, he worked hard for it. Harder than taller, mesomorphic built guys. Learning how to stand toe to toe with the independant guys. Eventually.. _eventually_ he got better. Sometimes he had to cheat, and lie, and scratch his way to a win. But he got better.

Only better was never enough.

He had to be the best.

Dolph rubbed his hands over his face firmly with a stifled groan, feeling the faint burn from Steph’s slap. He had been so close to his way into Wrestlemania. Any match he wanted, bar the Heavyweight Championship. He wouldn’t have tried to show-up Ryback, despite the strain put on their friendship by the Big Guy of late. He wasn’t that stealing, lying kind of guy anymore. That’s not the Champion he wanted to be. He could have booked a Triple Threat for the Intercontinental Championship. Let Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens beat themselves dry and let Ziggler take the win right out from under their distracted feet. Anything to get it back off Owens.

He knew The Authority had set him up with that match tonight. He knew Hunter was out of his league, near unbeatable but… you know, maybe he wasn’t? Dolph had believed that for more than a moment. Two, three, _four_ times The Game had only barely kicked out of his offense. It felt so fucking good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an adrenaline rush quite like it. He had been inches away...

But he hadn’t been good enough.

Dolph couldn’t beat Triple H, so he wasn’t going to Wrestlemania.

“It’s too bad I’m too good,” he snorted to the air. He could hear the doubt in his own ears.

A stage door opened behind him with a clunk and Dolph turned around to see one of the WWE make-up girls. One whom he had a particularly close bond with.

“Dolph.” She was panting.

“What? What is it?”

“Neville.”

Dolph’s stomach clenched, all the thoughts about his insecurities fading into the back of his mind. Why was there so much concern on her expression. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, merely staring back with wide eyes. As he waited for her to continue, his grip tightened on a freezing metal handrail.

“He got hurt,” she explained grievously, “It’s.. not good.”

 _What?_ Dolph’s pulse quickened. He didn’t even know Neville was booked to wrestle tonight. He’d been outside making time with his thoughts selfishly when he should have been inside keeping alert on the action.

“Thank you,” Dolph managed to his friend with a nod. He moved past her and burst back into the arena backstage in an anxious frenzy. He crashed into a packing crate before forcing it to the side and hopping into a run. Argh, his fucking shoulder. Fuck Hunter. Dolph gripped his left shoulder with an agonizing wince and tried to put the pain to the back of his mind, pressing forward. He flew towards where he remembered the medical room being, pushing faceless people out of his path.

“ _GET OUT OF MY WAY_!”

Heart in his throat, he frantically wondered what on Earth could have happened to Neville. He vaguely remembered him suffering a knee tweak months and months ago but Neville was a methodical worker like Dolph himself. Even with his insane moveset, the kid never overextended and always hit his target. Could he have hit his head doing a moonsault or plancha? Worse still, had someone done this to him purposefully??

“Ziggler, I’m going to need you to back up, we’re--”

Dolph forced the security guard to the side and barged into the medical room, panting heavily. He only now realised that his eyes were damp with concern.

Neville sharply turned at the sudden noise. When he realised it was Dolph, he offered an apologetic smile eyes only meeting the Show-Off’s for a half-second. He was sitting up but the ring gear from his left leg had been stripped away and two medics were hovering around his ankle.

Dolph slowly moved forward before the security guard grabbed the crook of his elbow. “Hey?! Get the fuck off me!”

“Come on, Ziggler, don’t make a--”

“No!” Neville called out, eyes desperate, “I need him here. Please.”

The guard paused, staring at Neville before taking his hands away from Dolph and held them up. “Alright… No more visitors, though, we just don’t have the capacity.”

“Aye,” Neville said cooly.

Dolph eyed the guard until he left and the door was closed before hastening to Neville’s side, cupping his uninjured face. Thank God. “Kid,” he whispered comfortingly. He could feel the eyes of the medics glance towards them, either curious or judgemental. He didn’t care.

Neville glanced towards his left ankle and Dolph’s gaze followed, biting his lip. It was blown up three times the size it normally was, tinted a nasty blue-purple color. “Looks bad, ah?”

Why was Neville so calm right now? He had a habit of hiding his feelings, sure, but this was really serious. A shaky hand found Dolph’s and their fingers interlocked tightly. He found his cheeks heat up, grateful that the kid was reaching out for his support.

Neville hissed at something the nurses were doing and Dolph snapped his head to them indignantly. "Be careful!" he practically shrieked.

"It's fine, Dolph," Neville laughed nervously.

“He’ll be good for Mania, right?” Dolph kept his gaze to the medics, blinking hard, “He’s just tweaked it, right?”

One of the nurses looked up to them, silently morose. It was a foolish hope with a shade under three weeks until Wrestlemania. Even a sprain could sometimes take a few weeks to heal. Dolph knew himself the hope was unfounded, he just didn’t want to believe it. Neville’s hand stiffened anxiously in his own.

“FIX HIM!” Dolph ignored the first hot tear that escaped. “HE NEEDS TO BE READY FOR HIS FIRST MANIA. He can’t--”

“He needs an x-ray, Ziggler,” the nurse pursed his lip with irritation, “No diagnoses until we know exactly what’s happened to it.”

Dolph stared at them, chest rising and falling with frustration. God, he just felt so...

“You beat Triple H, didn’t you, Dolph?” Neville brought his attention back with a hope that caused his heart to droop.

“Uh..” The Show-Off went silent, then slowly shook his head. He had to turn his head at Neville’s devastated expression.

In one night, both their Wrestlemania dreams had been ripped clean from under them.

Dolph brought Neville’s body into his own regretfully. There was a shaky laugh that he wasn’t even sure was his own before he felt Neville’s form lurch intermittently against his chest. Dolph hugged tighter, no longer able to hold back his own tearful inhales. Neville was so strong. His rock, even. How was he supposed to keep his composure when the kid couldn’t.

“Who were you fighting?” Dolph asked, sniffing.

“Jericho,” came the small accented voice in his arms.

Sadness was replaced with rage. Jericho. That son of a bitch. Dolph thought Jericho had it out for AJ Styles. What was he doing injuring his babe?! Forget Mania. That old-timer needed what was coming to him.

Dolph grasped Neville’s shoulders, looking into reddened eyes, “That motherfucker. I’ll fucking kill him. On Smackdown.. No, tomorrow. No, fuck that, I’ll go find him right--”

“Dolph!” Neville grabbed Dolph’s wrist as his temper soared, more than prepared to find Jericho and break his own fucking ankle. He turned back to Neville with laboured breaths, brows furrowed deep. The kid’s voice was uneasy, “It.. It wasn’t Jericho, I-- It was all me, Dolph. I did this to meself. A bad fall, I-- I’m just--” He let go of Dolph to rake his fingers through his hair, “I’m just a fucking failure.”

Dolph was shocked at the rare expletive from Neville. “Nev, you listen to me.” He tried to calm his indignant tone but he was so frustrated that the kid still was so hard on himself, even after all this time. “You work harder and longer than the majority of the guys out the back. You’re light on your feet but you’re strong too and so talented, babe. You’re the best thing that has happened to this company in a long time. And the best thing that’s happened to m--…”

Dolph stopped himself, blinking. Neville was staring up at him with wide eyes, clinging to every word.

“M-Modern pro-wrestling,” he finished, biting back his own disappointment.

There was a pause. “You make me feel like I could do anythin’,” Neville smiled in spite of everything, looking down at his own hand.

Dolph sighed, reaching up to press a kiss to his forehead. “What good would I be if I can’t make you feel better when you’re sad?” He murmured quietly for only Neville’s ears. Though, he wondered if it were more for himself.

“We’ll get you into Wrestlemania,” Neville said after a long moment, squeezing Dolph’s hand, “For the both of us.”

Dolph squat next to the bed to bring their eye level equal, ignoring the shooting pains up his legs from his match with Hunter. It was doubtful but he appreciated the optimism. He gave a small squeeze back and nodded dearly, “For us both.”


End file.
